The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-09-03
A PLUCKY AND DESERVIN c
 TRAMP.
San Francisco Examiner.

James Gleason. aged twcnty-two years, resided with his parents on a farm near Ellington, Chautauqua county, New York, but becoming tired of the monotony of his life, de- eided to come west. For this purpose he was given money by his father and after a tedious trip he landed in Tucson, Arizona, having S25 of his money remaining. He had never learned trade, and found it very diff cult to get employment in the Terri tory. His struggles lasted for some three months i'll that city, the young man earning an occasional dollar at odd work, but meanwhile his scanty funds had been sinking, and he could see nothing but eventual starvation by remaining, while there was hope for him, he thought, on this side of the Colorado desert.
 He had SS of his money remaining, but between Tucson and Los Angeles was wide stretch of five thousand miles, mostly desert, and, with except ion of section hands along the rail- road, perfectly innocent of population. By paying $3 to the brakemen he managed to ride upon freight trains as far as Texas Hill, sixty-two miles east of Yuma, where he was discovered by the conductor and forced from the train. There his luck deserted him. Abandoned in the desert, almost without money, wholly inexperienced in the knowledge of beating trains, and without the disposition to do so, there was nothing to do but walk the remaining 320 miles to the City of the Angels.
 Taking a couple of wine bottles from the side of the railroad, he filled them with water, tied them together, hung them over his shoulder. and started on his long tramp for civiliZa- tion. At the end of his second day he landed in Yuma, already tootsore and weary. Here another effort was made to find work, but without success. After two days rest, he started once more, and now upon a more barren desert than he had dreamed existed in the world. It was terrible under taking, but behind was starvation, ahead was life and possibly success. He could not walk in the daytime, so intense was the heat. He trudged on his way all night long, night after night, and as his feet grew sore and his bones weary, he staggered like a drunken man. When day came with its blistering sunshine, he would seek the welcome shade of hand-car house, wrap his shoes in his coat for a pillow, and between the biting of the huge flies which infest that country, get what rest was possible. 1t was desert everywhere. The white sand drifted in huge piles like snow, and over the land swept the hot wind, blistering and scorching all it touched, and in the shade the thermometer ranged from no to i27 degrees.
 At last there came day when life and death hung evenly in the balance. Young Gleason had started for a walk from one section-house to another rather late for such trip in such a climate. This distance was eight miles. It was almost ten o'clock when he neared the station, and seeing the building SO close, he raised the bottle to his lips and moistened them with his last drop of water. There was plenty more to be had in only few moments walki But horror! As he drew near he saw too plainly evil dences of desertion. He gazed into the cistern, but no water was there. It was a life-and-death struggle. Eight miles more to walk with the very heat of burning furnace pour ing down upon his head. He started on, but every step forward cost a struggle. His lips broke open and the blood oozed out His tongue was so swollen he could barely breathe.
 For a moment he sat down on the ties, but he realized that a stupor was coming on him.
 Lifei It was precious word, and he rose to his feet and pressed on About noon, reeling about, almost